


Choices

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: Rare Talent and Intellect [9]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 13:17:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13342041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: She should have expected that of all places, the Hall of Revealed Mysteries would be the most likely for him to visit.“Lady Hadret.” Thaos smiles pleasantly, but his eyes remain sharp. He can play this little comedy for the sake of amusement, but he knows first-hand that she is too intelligent to fall for it, and he would not stoop so low as to try to offend her that way; he certainly has more efficient means of doing that, should he want to. “What a pleasant surprise.”No, no, it isn’t, you sly drake, she thinks, but just smiles in reply – a courtly smile that means nothing.





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Star_Miya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Miya/gifts).



> (prompt: Lady Webb, trap, goals)

She should have expected that of all places, the Hall of Revealed Mysteries would be the most likely for him to visit. He looks older that she thought he would; there are silver threads clearly visible in his hair and beard now, and a light cobweb of first wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and lips, while her face still remains smooth and her hair untouched by grey. For the first time it crosses her mind that perhaps he ages more quickly than other mortals, that it might be the price of Woedica’s favour.

“Lady Hadret.” Thaos smiles pleasantly, but his eyes remain sharp. He can play this little comedy for the sake of amusement, but he knows first-hand that she is too intelligent to fall for it, and he would not stoop so low as to try to offend her that way; he certainly has more efficient means of doing that, should he want to. “What a pleasant surprise.”

No, no, it isn’t, you sly drake, she thinks, but just smiles in reply – a courtly smile that means nothing.

“It’s Lady Webb now,” she corrects curtly.

“Ah, yes, of course. I forgot.” Thaos chuckles, as for a moment they are both pretending to believe it. And then he outright laughs, his demeanour changing: the smile is gone, barely visible under his facial hair unless one knows where to look; but there are sparks of real amusement in his eyes. “I couldn’t resist,” he explains, instead of apology; not that she ever expected he would apologize. “Let us talk honestly, like civilized people, shall we?” he asks, offering her his arm.

For a moment – barely a heartbeat – she considers taking it. She thinks how it would be to touch his hand and have her palm pressed lightly against his body – as if by accident, but if she looked up at his mouth, the corner of his lips would be curled up slightly, telling that it was intentional. And she knows he is aware of what she is imagining; he surely remembers how she loved his laughter and how it always made her feel that small tug of desire. It still does.

“It’s one or another,” she replies coldly. Then she straightens her shoulders and raises her head up higher, summoning her most haughty expression as she spares a glance at his outstretched arm, and arches her eyebrows. “Thank you, I can walk on my own.” And then she brushes him aside with just a gesture, a simple wave of her hand, without touching him.

I am a noblewoman of House Hadret, she thinks, looking down at him even though he is taller; I am a noblewoman, and here and now, in this city and in this building, you are nothing, a commoner, a stranger without a name and with no importance. I can walk past you and ignore your words and no one would think lesser of me for that; some might even applaud. I can brush you aside like a crumpled piece of paper and think nothing of it.

Thaos smiles. You can, he says – his eyes, the curve of his mouth, his thoughts – you can brush me aside like a piece of paper, but your memory is too perfect to forget so easily the words once written.

She nods at him, and they walk along the shelves side by side, not touching, but close enough for the hem of his robe to brush against her gown. The sound is barely audible, but it drives her mad. Still, she keeps her face impassive; she has been a noble all her life, a cousin to the Ducs; she can make her face so blank that she would win a game of cards against a stone sculpture.

Not against him, though. Not yet. They both know it, and as much as it hurts her pride – immensely, but she can reign it in for now – it would be foolish to pretend otherwise. And she prides herself on assessing her adversaries correctly.

“What do you want?” she asks when they step out into the small garden. They are shielded from the streets by a hedge, but she knows the High Archivist – the high priest of Wael, even though he prefers not to use any titles – can see them from his office. Thaos would not care for passer-bys, but he will be more careful when watched by a potential ally. “Or has my beauty rendered you speechless?” Her voice is strong and confident, but her words are a jab and nothing more; she doubts there is anything that could affect him as much.

His deep dark eyes are focused on her face. “Can’t I visit an old friend?” he asks, in a tone blatantly telling that he does not expect her to believe it.

“You have no friends,” she reminds him.

He smiles; that irritating smile with just the corner of his mouth and his eyes; that intriguing smile, lovely like a secret to uncover. “Think of it as... sentiment,” he draws the last part out a bit, accentuating it subtly; ah, he has always had a way with words.

“Courtesies aside, Thaos.” She looks into his eyes, focused and serious now, keeps her voice hard around his name. If she starts playing his game, she will lose. “Why are you here?” Asking the right questions is always important, but ever more so with him.

“To warn you, Eydis.” He says her name casually, as if she really was nothing but an old acquaintance, and surprisingly, that hurts; she was more and she knows it. “Enjoy your little mysteries, but give up on your search. Death is the only thing you will find.”

“How kind of you to bother and travel all the way just to warn me,” she answers in a honeyed voice.

“Oh, I was just in the archives for a book.” Thaos shrugs. “You conveniently happened to be here as well.”

“What’s the matter, Thaos?” She raises an eyebrow. “Afraid I’m close to the truth?”

“You’ve always been closer to the truth than most.” There is genuine appreciation in his gaze, and that throws her off balance, that is something she was not expecting – not that he would acknowledge it, but that he would openly admit it. “But there are questions and answers you should not touch unless you’re ready to lay down your life.”

“As you did?”

He looks at her intently, and even though he does not move, it feels as if he touched her cheek, as if he was holding her face in his hand; the density of air, that almost palpable current; she is not sure how he does it, she should be more difficult to trick than this, but apparently it is working and she is both dismayed and thrilled.

“You have no idea what I did, Eydis,” he answers quietly, almost in a murmur, his voice going soft on her name, and oh, it still affects her.

She will not give in so easily; she will not give in. Not for her husband’s sake, but her own. “Enlighten me, then.”

That glimmer of honesty is gone, replaced by the usual mask; for a priest of Woedica, he could put most of Wael’s followers to shame. He is not lying, she knows, never outright lying; just shaping the truth like a jeweller bends a copper wire until it turns into a bracelet or a necklace or a brooch.

“All the books and tales mention that the price is sweat and blood. There is a grain of truth in all legends, you know that.” He gives her another measured smile, and then his eyes grow cold and his whole face freezes over. “Not just your blood, Eydis. Ask yourself how many are you ready to sacrifice.”

She meets his stare calmly. “For secrets or for Dyrwood?” She takes a step closer. “Is that what you do? Sacrifice people?”

Thaos looks around, at the archives shading the garden, at the dome of the ducal palace visible in the distance. “Isn’t that what it means to have power?”

“No, it shouldn’t,” she replies hotly.

He smiles at her and it is patronizing and she wants to slap him for it. “You said ‘shouldn’t’, not ‘isn’t’,” he remarks.

She looks into his eyes. He knows. That is what he liked in her so much – that she has never been afraid of paying. “Because it isn’t,” she says simply. There is no right way to put it.

His smile changes once more, into that hardly-noticeable expression of genuine amusement and appreciation. “Do they even realize how remarkable you are?” Thaos asks quietly, his voice warmer, coaxing.

It would be so easy to leave this city that never understands how much she does for it; she is not doing it for applause, but it would be nice to get some recognition from time to time. It would be so easy to leave her husband who admires and respects her, and whom she respects, too, but has never loved; he is honest and kind but he has never held her interest. It would be so easy...

“I have always admired your skill in manipulating people,” she admits openly, smiling at him; sincerity is the only way she can.... not win, perhaps, but sometimes stalemate is a victory.

Thaos laughs; a low, pleasant sound that makes her remember things. “You are doing fine yourself, my dear.”

“Oh, I will do better.”

“I have no doubts you will,” he agrees, smiling at her; he has always had the most faith in her abilities – it is because he knows her mind, knows the extent of her talent; still, he is the only person who has never doubted her. “You are one of those rare people that have found their place in life.”

That catches her off guard and she has to stop herself from blinking; she arches her eyebrows instead. “Not at your side?”

“You thought that is why I came here?” Thaos shakes his head slowly. The smile on his lips is soft, almost seductive, but his eyes are dark. “No, Eydis. You have forsaken your place at my side the moment you left. There is no going back.” He steps closer and reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair out of her face, without touching her skin. “Not that you ever would, right?”

She takes his hand and moves it away from her face. “No, I wouldn’t.” She wants to; there are moments when she thinks that has been the only place where she was appreciated as she should be, the only place someone understood her talent, and she misses that. Not enough to break her own principles or give up on her pride, though.

They lower their hands, but their fingers keep brushing for a while, lightly interlaced, and this touches her more than his words or smiles or laughter ever could, this is what finally makes a crack in her defences. This reminds her of the quiet nights when they would lie entwined in tangled sheets, talking and making plans in whispers and murmurs, trading kisses and brushing hands; when she believed he considered her his equal, a partner. This reminds her of the happiest days of her life.

She moves her hand away with a sigh. “No, Thaos. There is no going back.”

He smiles. “You never disappoint.” There is genuine appreciation in his voice and she basks in it.

“Well, I guess it’s a farewell, then.” If she was a few years younger, she would want him to kiss her one last time; now she is too proud for that.

“Only a goodbye.” There is something sinister in his smooth voice. “Do be careful with your questions, Eydis, lest we see each other again too soon.”

She laughs. “I could almost think you miss me.”

He chuckles. “I could almost think that myself.”

Eydis shakes her head. “I won’t fall for that, you know. Not your smiles, not your honesty. You will not bind me to yourself again.” She will go back to her husband and to caring for her city, and she will be content with that as she has been before.

“I’m not going to. And, as I’m sure you recall, I never have.” Thaos gives her one last brief, calm, assured smile. “You see, my dear, there are no chains that bind as tightly as those we choose ourselves.” With that, he turns away and walks out of the garden, leaving her alone.

She will go back to her husband and to caring for her city, and she will keep trying to but never stop thinking of his words.


End file.
